


You're The One That I Want

by emimix3



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Baker Bitty, Dancing and Singing, First Kiss, Get Together, Grease - Freeform, Greasers, Jewish Jack Zimmermann, M/M, Musicals, Song Lyrics, biker bitty, kegster
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-07-13 23:55:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16028657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emimix3/pseuds/emimix3
Summary: MUSICAL THEMED KEGSTERPrivate · Hosted by Justin Oluransi and Adam BrkhltzJustin Oluransi invited you✔ Going        ? Maybe     ✖ Can’t GoJacob , Shitty and 21 other friends are goingWho never dreamt to find themselves on a paradisiac Greek Island to meet their 3 dads? To begin a French revolution? To kill customers while at work? To be a rapper AND a founding father? Or a… Cat, we guess? Anyway, this day has COME my friend! Bring your best bottle and your favorite costume because you won’t enter without them!Make sure to know at least a song or two because if you don’t think we’ve planned a karaoke you definitely don’t know us.SOs, Tinder Dates, Meryl Streep, sexy profs or your moms are all welcomeKisses on the buttcheeks!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this in two goes in two days
> 
> I think I needed to exteriorise my binge-listening of the Grease soundtracks  
> I mostly listened to the 2016 TV event's OST; lyrics from You're The One That I Want, Those Magic Changes (the 2016 version is really great), and insp. also from Summer Nights
> 
>  
> 
> Set in march of year 2

 

 

MAR        **MUSICAL THEMED KEGSTER  
** 14        Private · Hosted by Justin Oluransi and Adam Brkhltz

**Justin Oluransi** invited you

✔ Going        **?** Maybe     ✖ Can’t Go

Saturday March 14th at 8 PM  
The Haus, Samwell                                           Show Map

**41 Going · 54 Maybe · 102 Invited**

Jacob,  Shitty  and  21 other friends are going

✉ Invite      (Incoming Envelope )  Message hosts

Who never dreamt to find themselves on a paradisiac Greek Island to meet their 3 dads? To begin a French revolution? To kill customers while at work? To be a rapper AND a founding father? Or a… Cat, we guess? Anyway, this day has COME my friend! Bring your best bottle and your favorite costume because you won’t enter without them!

Make sure to know at least a song or two because if you don’t think we’ve planned a karaoke you definitely don’t know us.

SOs, Tinder Dates, Meryl Streep, sexy profs or your moms are all welcome

Kisses on the buttcheeks! 

 

* * *

 

Bitty was a bit excited for this Musical Kegster. S’not everyday he got expressly asked to sing, after all. A certain captain slash hausmate of his seemed not to like that much his impressive vocal abilities.

Okay maybe he couldn’t sing in tune but still. Having a nice ass doesn’t excuse you from being rude.

So yeah, Bitty put a lot of thought into his costume. He had already been Mrs Lovett this Halloween, so he sure as hell wouldn’t recycle his costume, so. Better put on his Musicals playlist on until he got some inspiration.

 

It’s at eleven PM this night, laying on his bed and eyes on the ceiling that Bitty heard the song and got an illumination. A flashback of a high school fantasy.

He knew what he will dress as for the

Kegster, and he will look positively _dandyish._

* * *

 

Bitty managed to keep his costume secret until just before the beginning of the Kegster. Both Ransom and Holster tried to get their eyes on it beforehand, but Bitty was more protective of it than a bride-to-be could be of her gown.

So yeah, when before Kegster, Bitty walked down the stairs in a white T-shirt and an unassuming leather jacket, his teammates were a bit disappointed.

Until he winked at them and proceed to take a butterfly comb out of his pocket to put in order his hair he did actually _grease_ (and that was a mistake because it wouldn’t stay in place. He actually did have to comb it every now and then.)

 

“ _Grease_ , Bitty? Really?” Ransom, who was a founding father (but which?) beamed.

“Well obviously I’m not Elsa,” Bitty replied as he joined everyone and Holster checked his shoulder in approval.

 

Ok so. _Grease_. Sue him.

For the longest time, Bitty didn’t know if he wanted to be like a greaser or to be with a greaser. Ask high school Bitty, he’d say he wants to be like them. Ask freshman Bitty, he’d say he want to be with them. Ask end-of-sophomore year Bitty, he’d say yes.

There’s something in the aesthetic, okay? The leather, the hair, the _bikes and vintage cars_ , the rebellion, the fantasy of a high school experience he never got close to in any way.

Also rockabilly music, that he _loved_ to dance to.

And, well, John Travolta.

And John Travolta’s sharp cheekbones and dark hair and piercing blue eyes and voice and-

Stop here, Bitty.

Stop right here.

Do not imagine Jack in a leather jacket and driving a Samwell red Studebaker convertible. You’re in public.

 

“Oh.”

 

Ironically, it’s was Jack’s (dark, suave, a bit chocked??) voice that pulled Bitty out of his thoughts.

Just to make him fall into them even faster.

Here, stopped in the middle of the stairs, was Jack Zimmermann in all his glory. Wearing a white T-shirt, tight, tight denims, a black leather jacket, with his oh-so piercing blue eyes and his oh-so sharp cheekbones and his dark hair that had been thoughtfully greased-

 

Bitty stopped to compute.

He was so fucking gay.

 

“Same costume,” Jack finally said with a smile after two hours of silence (five seconds), resuming his way to their friends downstairs.

 

Holy shit, he was so sexy. His T-shirt was sinfully close of his chest, his leather jacket looked like it was _tailored_ to make people sweat, his denims _were_ very probably tailored like half of his trousers, his leather boots were so… leathery… and _booty…_

No seriously, Bitty had really stopped to compute. It’s hard to think, okay? It was too hot in this entryway. Maybe if he had… Some air. And some blood that decided to try to irrigate, for instance, _his brain_ that would be cool.

 

“I gotta… Watch the food,” Bitty excused himself to the kitchen, where he would be alone and far from butterfly combs that weren’t his because all of this became dangerous.

 

From there, he still could hear everyone talking.

 

“Jack Travolta, why are your hands bright _green_?” Chowder asked.

“Oh. I helped Lardo sealing her makeup, but the sink is such a mess now and Shitty and her haven’t finished preparing, so I figured I’d clean them in the kitchen…”

 

Oh shit. Destiny, destiny, cruel mistress. Are you like that with every person who won’t lie with your womanly forms?

 

Bitty was setting the mini-quiches (Dex hand made them! He was getting good at making savoury food!) on the cooling rack near the sink when Jack entered the kitchen and went straight to the sink, to wash his, indeed, green hands.

His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows.

_Fuuuck_

_Fuck you_

_Fuck me_

 

Bitty pulled his eyes away from Jack’s very desirable forearms (and forearms are fucking _half-arms_ , that’s to say how gone Bitty is) just in time to see that Jack was staring at _him_ , with a playful smile on his lips.

What, you’re so happy that you have one contestant less for the costume contest? Because in direct competition, no way in hell Bitty can win against your idiot face.

 

“You should wear this jacket more often,” Jack said, cryptically, when he was drying his hands (oh those hands).

 

And he turned around with a grin, stealing a mini-quiche on the way.

 

“Jack, there’s pork in it, you cannot eat that,” Bitty said before he could exit the room because he could be living the most confusing ten minutes of his life, but he still had his priorities straight (statistically, something had to be).

“Oh. Uh. Yes, Yes. True. Here,” he came to Bitty and gave him the quiche.

“That’s awfully nice darling, but may I remind you I’m a vegetarian.”

“Oh. _Yes yes yes._ Well. Eh. I’m. Gonna go.”

 

And Jack all but ran out of the kitchen. Red in the face.

 

“Sweet goodness gracious, what the fuck.”

 

* * *

 

 “So what are you?” Bitty asked Shitty.

 

He only got to see him and Lardo (the Wicked Witch) when the Kegster was well under way. The three of them were in a corner of the living-room with Nursey (who also was a founding father? He had planned a duet with Ransom, and Bitty really needed to watch Hamilton).

 

“I’m Enjolras, of course?” Shitty said.

“Wasn’t he being youthful and beardless a big part of his character?” Nursey replied before smiling in his tub juice glass.

“Yes, but I am shaving this beauty for no man, be it the grandest Revolutionary of France.”

 

Bitty wasn’t paying attention, really. Holster was in the middle of the living-room, and truly, it was _his_ night.

He had dressed as, well, nothing. A plain shirt, plain trousers, plain shoes. That was surprising.

What was more surprising was the huge crate of accessories he had set up next to the sound system, and the set mic, and basically? He was dressed as everyone and everything. If someone needed a second person for a duet? He had the right costume somewhere in there, and he seemed to have the lyrics of every single Broadway show engraved in his brain, instead of his finance lectures.

Right now, he was singing some catchy ABBA song with Ransom and the goalie of SWH. Before that, he had been singing a Disney duet with a shy freshman girl. In-between, a bunch of football players had sang the intro song of _The Book of Mormon_.

Bitty had spent the night casting glances at a totally oblivious Jack, who was focused on the show at the other side of the room with Dex, Ollie and Wicks.

He was recombing his hair every now and then because of the grease and Bitty was melting on the spot.

Now, if Jack could look at _him_ like he looked at the musical numbers…

 

“I’m gonna sing.”

 

Bitty was off to the sound system before he could even register what he just had said.

Singing alone in your shower is a thing. Singing so a cute (okay. Hot as fuck right now) boy would notice you in the middle of a frat party was another.

Bitty had only half a beer in his system right now.

Holster, Ransom and the girl had just finished their impressive rendition of _Mamma Mia_. Bitty got close to them, and Holster raised an eyebrow at him while drinking _water_ from his bottle. That’s how serious he was tonight.

“Wanna sing?” he asked, when he finished his drink.

“ _You’re The One That I Want?_ ”

“ _Yes_ , good. Rans, put on the sing along. Bits, the mic is standing here, and the floor is yours.”

 

Shit, shit. You can do it, Bit. Lardo and Shitty and the others are screaming, you hear them.

The first notes of the song began to play, and Bitty looked up frim the floor to look straight at Jack. Who had his eyes locked on him and was sipping his solo cup, leaned against the wall and it was illegal to look that sexy while drinking orange juice.

So Bitty looked away, because otherwise he wouldn’t be able to sing.

 

_“I got chills, they're multiplying, and I'm losing control, 'cause the power you're supplying, it's electrifying!”_

 

Bitty knew, as a matter of fact, that he wasn’t that much of a good singer. But he had _enthusiasm,_ okay? Still, it was reliving to hear the people around him getting into it.

You don’t know what’s lying in store, stupid Jack with your stupid greaser jacket.

Sandy’s verse was about to begin, and, well.

Bitty didn’t know what was lying in store either. He turned around, because someone tapped on his shoulder with a finger.

 

 _“You better shape up, 'cause I need a man_ -“ holy shit “- _and my heart is set on you-”_

 

Jack. Jack Stupid Zimmermann and his stupid greaser jacket and his stupid cheekbones and his stupid _voice of an angel why could he sing_ had noticed Bitty so hard he had crossed the room to sing the girl’s verses of a stupid love duet with him.

Well. Bitty won’t be the one complaining. Holster probably will be cranky about that, but hey.

Had Bitty already said this night was confusing? Because this night is confusing.

 

“ _You better shape up, you better understand, to my heart I must be true-”_

 

Listen this morning, Bitty didn’t expect that in a few hours, Jack Zimmermann, his unrequited crush, would dress as one of his fantasies and sing love songs to him and _put his hand on his waist to dance some rock-and-roll and look at him straight in the eye like if he was hockey holy hell holy hell holy_

Bitty didn’t even notice that he was singing too, so focused on their one step on, two step back dance, and it’s only when they both began the chorus he focused back into the song.

 

“ _You're the one that I want, you are the one I want, oo-oo-oo, honey-_ ”

 

The crowd was probably supplying the chorus. Bitty didn’t know and couldn’t hear. He had Jack’s hand on the small of his back and his own arm on Jack's shoulder.

They may or may not be touching below the belt.

At least, until Jack decided to breakaway so they could dance farther from each other, hand in hand, and he was grinning like he was proud of himself.

Joke’s on you, Mister Zimmermann. Bitty had an intensive background in dancing, and a lyric-less interlude to show it off.

The next verse came way too soon, and Jack turned Bitty closer to him so they could focus on the singing instead of doing fancy steps, and Bitty barely could hear a word because _Jack could sing and why hadn’t anyone told him this-_

“ _I better shape up, ‘_ c _ause you need a man-“_ Bitty was singing, and grinning, and dancing.

 _“I need a man, who can keep me satisfied-“_ and Jack had such a shit-eating smile and bedroom eyes while singing that it was surreal-

_“I better shape up, if I'm gonna prove-“_

_“You better prove, that my faith is justified-”_

_“Are you sure?”_

And Jack, who was leading the dance, and the song, and the party, and Bitty’s heart, and Bitty’s mind, and his dick, twirled him to get him close to his chest and they could both continue:

_“Yes I'm sure down deep inside, you're the one that I want, you are the one I want, oo-oo-oo, honey-”_

 

The rest of the song was only chorus. Didn’t have to focus much on the singing part, they could just dance to their heart content.

Bitty was pretty sure Jack could have tried a lift or two, but he didn’t. Sadly? Well it was probably better they didn’t try stunts without practice. Bitty hadn’t danced rock-and-roll with a good partner since high school. At least a feet should stay on the ground at all times for now.

Not that whatever the ever living fuck was happening right now would ever happen again.

The song was very close to its end when Bitty saw a devilish glint in Jack’s eye.

The moment they sang the final “ _Oh yes indeed”,_ Jack dipped Bitty, very, very low.

His face was so close. Bitty could count his eyelashes (so many). The moment was frozen. They could just kiss, here and there-

Until Jack got up and pulled Bitty with him, twirling him to try to get some more class points among the non-existent judges, or at least among the partygoers around, who were applauding them.

“And that was a good prestation from our very own Bitty and Jack!” Ransom shouted.

“They had in enthusiasm what they didn’t have in constant sound quality, because the _mic is set and wasn’t moving with them, as I’ve told Bits_ ,” Holster groaned. “Now clear the floor! Shruti from rugby wanna sing some _Hairspray_!”

 

Jack still had his hands around Bitty when they got hushed out of the dancefloor, and Bitty wasn’t going to let him go. He lead him to where Shitty and Lardo were, now sans Nursey.

 

“He left to get some water,” Lardo said before Bitty could ask.

“You both weren’t half-bad!” Shitty beamed. “Cool to see you didn’t went no-homo or pronoun-switching, Jack.”

“Oh. Uh. Yeah. Yeah.”

“I mean, seriously, I don’t think there are many musical duets that could be gay, so that’s nice of you to step in to let Bitty experience the whole thing as he wants to, you know? Plus that was, well, _you_ who sang the ‘lady’ part, and that was respectful and not gimmick like when Holster does it, and-“

 

Jack had tensed up.

Bitty sobered up immediately. He quietly untangled himself from Jack’s arms, and said, to no one in particular, that he was going to find some food.

 

The kitchen was tapped to stop people from entering, but that hadn’t deterred Ollie and Wicks to make out on his counter.

 

“Aren’t there any other place to do that?”

“Give us the key to your room, and there would be,” Wicks frowned.

“Shitty forgot to close his door, I heard him complain about it. Go wild.”

 

They didn’t need to be said twice, and they ran all the way upstairs, letting Bitty alone in his kitchen, to lean against his counter and sigh.

Until Jack passed under the tape to join him, that is.

 

All Bitty needed was ten minutes alone to try to puzzle together everything that has happened tonight with this stupid boy. Had he be anyone else, Bitty would have concluded that he was very interested in him. You don’t look at your partner like _that_ during a duet while dancing glued one on another if you aren’t into them.

You don’t follow them into the kitchen with a hungry look in your eyes, and the body language that makes it very clear you’re not looking for _food_ , if you aren’t into them.

But _Jack Zimmermann_ , whose only love is the hockey stick up his ass _._

Jack Zimmermann, who almost eat some pork because he was too busy teasing Bitty and too flustered to notice.

_Confusing._

 

“Hi, Jack,” Bitty said, and Jack came to him and put his hands on his hips. Bitty had to bite his cheek, to stop himself from… He didn’t know what, but he needed to stop.

“Hi, Bits. We didn’t impress the crowd that much, sadly.”

“Actual theatre kids sang before us. We weren’t up to the competition.”

“Just surprised it didn’t look half as incredible as it felt, that’s all. Didn’t know you could dance that well.”

“Well, Mr Zimmermann,” and Bitty passed his arm around Jack’s shoulder because _fuck it_ , Jack was only human and not a glitched robot so he couldn’t send that many misleading signals, “I’m a figure skater. I’ve danced for years. Didn’t like ballet much, I always focused more on rock and tap. Now though, I am surprised _you_ can dance and sing.”

“Rich, famous parents. You learn how to dance when you learn how to walk.”

“So, two years after learning how to skate?”

“Chirp, chirp.”

 

They didn’t say a word for a while. They were just looking at each other. Jack’s hair were a mess, hadn’t been combed in a while. Bitty passed his hand in it, to try to tame it a little, but Jack only leaned against his hand.

Oh, really. You want to play that way? Bitty’s hand slowly made its way along Jack’s jaws, on his cheek. They got closer, and closer-

 

“Bits… Do you think you can dip me?”

 

Bitty moved back, and eyebrow raised. Jack was grinning like an idiot.

 

“No, I cannot dip you, Jack. I’m a shrimp, you’re a fridge.”

“Well, that is sad.”

“Why so?”

“Because, haven’t you heard? I really want to be dipped, so…“ Jack moved closer, and closer, and closer, until his lips ghosted Bitty’s, and before Bitty could react he had already moved along his cheek, his jaw, to his ear: “ _You better shape up, cause I need a man, and my heart is set on you…”_

 

He suddenly went off of Bitty, licked his lips while looking straight at him, and began to make his way out of the kitchen. Bitty managed to react only when Jack was at the bottom of the stairs, running after him.

 

“What the hell, Jack?”

“We’ll continue where we left off when you can dip me, Bits,” Jack said, combing his hair. “I have standards.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Yes it is.”

“Oh yeah? Just you wait.”

 

Jack winked at him (he was terrible at winking, half of his other eye was closing too) and began to _bolt upstairs_. Bitty didn’t lose a second to run after him, jumping above the tape and ignoring the partygoers around them. He managed to grab his hand in the middle of the hallway, and Jack pushed him in his bedroom. Bitty just had the time to blink (because everything was happening quick, and he was in _Jack’s bedroom_ ) that Jack had disappeared through his window on the Reading Room.

Bitty was quick to follow, just to see that Jack was climbing the ladder that had been stored there to stop people from using it to go up the Reading Room from the ground outside.

Do you have a death wish Jack? Because that’s how you die. This ladder is definitely not stable.

But Bitty also seemed to have a death wish, because he was living his fantasy right now. So he combed his hair, licked his lips, and bolted up the ladder too. Jack was already there, under the stars, with his terrible playful smile he had all night long, and he was looking even better now, far from the harsh lights of the party but under the moonlight.

_Bitty, you are so gone. But let’s be real, this boy also seems to be._

 

“What’s gotten into you tonight?” Bitty asked when he was near enough to grab Jack’s wrist and pull him into himself.

“What’s gotten into _me?_ Have you seen yourself? Did you read my diary to decide to come dressed up like this? You have no right looking so _hot_ in leathers, Bitty.”

“I return you the compliment, Mr Zimmermann.”

 

Jack just nodded, as to say ‘you better be’, and put his arms around Bitty’s shoulders. Okay, then, Bitty said, snaking his arms around his waist.

 

“You’re awfully bold tonight, Jack.”

“Well, it’s easier to be bold when you’re in costume, isn’t it? You should know one or two things about it yourself, Bittle.”

“Wow, chirp much.”

 

Bitty decided to lead the dance, for once. He began to rock them slowly on the roof, careful to not slip and fall. Jack was happy to follow.

 

“So, Mr Zimmermann, you’re into greasers? And, boys I guess? And _me?”_

“It’s that surprising? I _love_ this musical, okay? My mom had played Sandra Dee on stage for several months, until she was too pregnant with me. And isn’t being into greasers in 2018 _queer culture_ , or something? You seem quite partial to them to.”

“Have you decided to be the biggest tease out there tonight?”

“It works, doesn’t it? And you can’t call me a _tease_ when you are looking like… This. And dance like that. I saw you at the bottom of the stairs tonight and I realised that if I didn’t do something, someone would probably snatch you away, and I can’t let that happen now, can I?”

“Well if you must know, your smoothest move tonight has been when you almost eat lard quiches and then proceed to offer some to my vegetarian self.”

“ _Chirp, chirp, chirp_.”

“No, really! Nice to see I managed to fluster you so much.”

“Bits, there are two things I fantasy about, it’s you, and vintage clothes and vintages bikes and vintage music. How do you want my little robot processor to work when you associate both? I just can’t think.”

 

Wow, there was a lot to unpack here.

First, Jack was fantasying about _him_?

Second, he was in for a surprise.

 

“Jack did you know I can ride a motorbike?”

“ _What?”_ it was more a choke than a question. Jack even stopped dead in their slow dance.

 

Great.

Suffer, Zimmermann.

 

“Well, my uncles wanted to pay me some shooting classes, because it’s manly to shoot at things I guess… And I instead convinced them to get me a bike driving licence. Bikes are manly too, no? So I have the licence. _And a bike._ ”

 

The bike wasn’t a vintage English beauty, but his cousin’s old cross Kawasaki for which he probably didn’t even need his licence to ride, and that was currently gathering dust in his parents’ garage, but hey. That’s all he could afford, and Jack didn’t have to know.

 

“Bitty…” Jack _whined_ , hiding his face in Bity’s crook of the neck.

“I’ll let my uncles know the lessons they spent money on helped me seduce a boy.”

“I was seduced enough already. You didn’t need to drop _this_ bombshell on me. I just want you to carry me to my bed and to do whatever you want to me.”

 

When they resumed their slow dancing, Bitty’s hands sneaked under Jack’s jacket, on his T-shirt. His fingers curled in there. He was comfortable. They were comfortable, looking at each other, a few inches apart.

 

“Jack… I have a question.”

“Ask ahead.”

“Costumes off, sudden boldness off, whatever happened tonight off and is happening right now off too. I… It’s new for me, all of this. I don’t want it to be just a one-night thing because I’m dressed as something you’re into. It’s… I…” Say it, Bittle. Look at him in the eye and say it. “I really like you. Have for a while.”

 

You did it, Bitty.

Jack was staring at him with an intensity Bitty had only seen in the middle of a game. When he didn’t even need to calculate or to think what to do, because he just _knew_.

 

“Bits… I. I lo-like you too. Have for a while, I believe. You, your smiles, your kindness, your chirps, your bowties, _you_. Even without the leathers. Even without the bike. But the bike is a _great_ addition.”

 

Oh shit. Good. Do not combust, Bitty. None of what happened tonight was imagined. So you didn’t imagine him almost saying ‘love’. Just kiss the boy, you can-

 

“You still need to dip me to have your way with me.”

“Oh my _God_!” Bitty groaned.

“I spent _months_ shaping you up, surely you can prove that my faith that you can satisfy me is justified…”

 

Bitty was about to just do it right here, right now, when Jack, this _tease_ , instead grabbed one of his hands to dance and put a respectable distance between their bodies.

 

“I wanna sing.”

“Jack! I’m gonna make you sing tonight, just you wait.”

 

Jack just grinned. Fucker.

 

“ _What's that playing on the radio? Why do I start swaying to and from? I have never heard that song before, but if I don't hear it anymore-”_

 

Jack’s voice was still as beautiful. The dance was still as intimate, but in a much different way now. Bitty was leading it, and he made sure to get Jack as close as possible as soon as he could. There was no music. So Bitty just let him sing, verses after verses, chorus after chorus, at the pace he himself was setting with the dance. It was becoming a bit faster. A bit more assured.

 

“ _I'll be waiting by the radio, you'll come back to me someday I know, been so lonesome since our last goodbye, but I'm singing as I cry-why-ay-”_

 

And Bitty grinned, and he dipped Jack. Not much, because they were on the roof, and Bitty really didn’t want to risk any broken neck, but it seemed to be enough, because when he pulled Jack up, they kissed. It was sweet, and short, because they both wouldn’t stop beaming.

 

“You can now have your way with me as you please, stud.”

“You are sure there aren’t one or a thousand more verses to this song?” Bitty smiled. “Also, I was at least hoping for a date or two before putting out.”

“First, _I’m_ putting out, second, we already had a thousand dates.”

“It’s not dates if both parties are so deep in their denial that none of them call them dates…”

“It is and you know it.”

 

Yeah. Bitty knew it. When a boy jumps over to ask if you want coffee with him, it’s a date. When you stay in the building one hour after the end of your classes to wait for a boy’s last lesson of the day to finish so you can both go walk around the lake it’s a date. They had had a thousand of them.

Also he had a costume. And a first kiss. He could be bold tonight.

 

“Race to your room?”

“You’re on, Bits.” 

 

* * *

 

 Morning was complicated. Ollie and Wicks were the only ones in the kitchen when Bitty and Jack arrived, both finishing breakfast. Bitty sat across from them, and Jack began to fix two plates and mugs of coffee.

 

“Hi,” Bitty said. “Still here?”

“Well yes. We were busy getting busy on Shitty’s couch,” Ollie began.

“As you told us to do.”

“Until Shitty arrived and kicked us out. I hope you don’t mind that we slept in your room.”

“Of course you don’t mind,” Wicks said, holding his mug of coffee. “It’s not like you came at any moment in the night to sleep in there yourself.”

 

Bitty just squinted at them, as Jack passed him a cup of coffee with a lot of milk.

 

“You really should think about closing correctly your window during next kegster. Anyone can enter in your bedroom, really,” Ollie continued. “You wouldn’t want a straight couple to have sex in your bed now, would you?”

“You had sex in my bed?”

“No don’t worry we’re not _animals_. We don’t have sex in other people’s beds, and you don’t have a couch, so we hooked up in the bathroom and went back to the party and we only came in your room when it died down and we were too lazy to go back to our dorm.”

“When in the hallway we couldn’t not notice we weren’t the only ones who got lucky though,” Ollie said.

“Congrats on the sex, bros,” Wicks finished, and both pulled their fists across the table to bump Jack and Bitty.

“Congrats on the sex yourself,” Jack smiled.

 

Ransom and Holster were the next ones to come down, both still hammered. Ransom began to fix leftovers plates for both, asking Holster what to put on his, but Holster only replied with groans.

 

“You okay?” Ollie asked.

“I ca---” Holster began to say. But his mouth was moving with no sound.

“He lost his voice and is in dire need of stretching,” Ransom explained.

“Wor--- it” Holster managed to stammer with a voice from another world. “B--- Ja--. Ser—ous?”

“Jack, he’s quite upset you stole his duet with Bitty yesterday night,” Ransom translated. “But since when can you sing? It’s been three years we know each other, why did you hide this?”

“Not my fault none of you ever made me want to sing, eh.”

  

Then, Shitty and Lardo arrived. Lardo’s green make up was mostly off, but there was still a bit of it smeared on the sides of her neck and her face, and in her hair. Shitty had green all over his moustache.

 

“Now I get why you were so hasty of kicking us out of your room yesterday,” Wicks snickered.

“Sike, bros,” Ransom said.

 

Shitty cleared his throat when he arrived in the middle of the kitchen, to make sure he had everyone’s attention. (His moustache was green. He already had.)

 

“My friends, my brahs. I have a great announcement to make.”

“Oh my god,” Lardo groaned, hiding her head in her hands.

“I know that virginity is a social construct, that has only the importance that we give to it. But, I feel important to notify you all that yesterday night, I have finally lost my V-Card.”

“ _Oh my god.”_

 

All of the boys politely applauded Shitty, who was bowing, and Bitty went for a fist bump.

 

“I lost my V-card too.”

“Wow! Swawesome!”

 

There was another round of applause for Bitty, who took it with a smile even if he was red in the face.

 

“Okay so,” Ransom began. “I know that Holster and Sarah from theatre kept me and March away from the attic for a good part of the night…”

“H--!”

“Ollie and Wicks got dirty in the bathroom, I saw them going out of it , Bitty lost his V-card, Shitty too, _obviously_ to Lards… That’s all but one.”

“Jack, did you do the do yesterday night? Not that you’re in anyway to reply to the question if it makes you uncomfortable or if you value privacy, or-“

“Yes, Shits, I had sex too.”

 

Holster and Ransom were looking like it was Christmas morning and their freshly-divorced parents were trying to one-up the other with their gifts.

 

“Musical Kegster was a fucking triumph! Everyone, you are welcome!”

“Ye---! ---ood!”

“Well, I hope you all had good sex. Great sex. ‘T’was great with March, just so you know.”

“Good, as always,” Ollie and Wicks replied.

“It was swawesome,” Shitty sighed with delight.

“It was passable,” Lardo said as she was chewing her bacon.

 

Shitty didn’t even react, and instead turned toward the others.

 

“Bitty, Jack, with who did you get laid?” Shitty asked. “I didn’t see you of the night.”

“Yeah, Bitty, Jack, with who did you get laid?” Wicks snickered.

 

Uh. It wasn’t like they really had talked about how _out_ they would be to their friends. They were otherwise busy yesterday night. And this morning. None of the guys even knew that Jack was bi, and Bitty had no idea of how many news he wanted to break today.

 

“Uh…” Bitty tried.

“Met someone,” Jack cut him. “Cute as can be. The greaser look and my natural charm did the do for the seducing part, and we danced and hold hands and kissed under the stars and made love in my room. It was all very romantic.”

 

Oh yeah? That’s not exactly how Bitty remembered his night with Jack If-You-Don’t-Dip-Me-You-Don’t-Touch-Me McTease Zimmermann.

 

“Well, _I_ spent the night with hot stuff who could barely stop to chirp me long enough to kiss me,” Bitty teased.

“Mega-rude.” Shitty said, smiling also.

“Plus he turned into a pillow princess when I told him I had a motorbike. I had to do all the work.”

“Ultra-rude.” Ransom nodded.

“Glad to see you agree.”

“No, Bits, _you’re_ ultra-rude _._ You’ve got a bike and you never told us?”

“Can we go back to Jack Zimmerman, being an hopeless romantic? The boy probably just found the woman of his dreams yesterday!” Shitty cut him. “Jack, tell me more! What did you do? Did you slow-dance? Did you sing a duet? Has the -gasp- L-word been said? _Thought?_ ”

“Bitty has had his beddings visited by a horny stud and you care about hand holding? Bitty, tell us, _was he any good?_ ”

“ _Any good_ am I dreaming you cannot say stuff like-“

“Well,” Bitty cut off Shitty, “he was better _this morning_ when he actually decided to _do stuff_ instead of laying down and waiting for things to happen.”

“That is rude, Bittle. Maybe he was shy and didn’t want to be too eager because it was your first time,” Jack said, raising an eyebrow. “That was a endearing move from him.”

“No he just gave up all his dignity and pride once he knew I was a biker. Not that he had much left once he saw my butterfly comb and my dance moves. But yeah, even without a bike I got to show off how good of a rider I am.”

“So you had another round with him this morning?” Lardo asked. “Where’s the guy? Already left?”

“Who is this, who is this?” Ransom pressed.

“Ransom you cannot ask that -what if the guy is not out? Now on the other hand, Jack’s girl-“

 

Neither Bitty not Jack replied, letting Ransom and Shitty to their arguments. Their friends were idiots.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during year 3

“Zimmboni… We need to talk.”

“Mmh?”

“What the fuck?”

 

The Falconers were in the locker room, showering and dressing after practice. And Jack… Jack was hogging the mirror to grease and comb his hair with some fancy comb Alexei had never seen before.

 

“Oh, that? Well, I’ve been informed that I should wear my leathers today.”

“What, by your girlfriend?” Alexei frowned.

“What for?” Thirdy asked.

“Well, I don’t know. I _have_ been invited to a 50’s-themed party in a bar tonight…”

“It’s two PM.”

“Yeah. I don’t know why I should dress up _right now_ , but I’m gonna trust what I’ve been told,” Jack said, and he went to his bag to pull out a vintage well-loved leather jacket that he dressed over his black T-shirt. “So now where are my boots…”

 

The guys were curious, okay? Who managed to convince Jack to wear a leather jacket when it was November, and definitely not cold enough for those? To grease his hair? To wear _boots? And why?_ So if Tater, Snowy, Thirdy and Marty took all their time to change to go out of the room at the same time as Jack, and followed him outside, it was just because of curiosity, and curiosity is important.

They crossed paths with George in the corridor, going the other way. She raised an eyebrow at Jack and did a 180 to follow him too.

 

“What the fuck?” she shushed to Marty.

“I think his girlfriend has kinky plans for him this afternoon.”

 

Outside, right in front of the rink’s side entrance, there was no girlfriend waiting for him.

There was a blond guy on a vintage black motorbike, a helmet under his arm and also dressed like a greaser, who took off his sunglasses when he saw Jack arrive.

He was, objectively, hot as fuck.

 

“Bitty?” Jack chocked.

“Tell me about it… Stud.”

 

Jack powerwalked his way to the bike, and the others came closer, too.

 

“What the hell is that?” and he had a hard time articulating.

“Bonneville T120, vintage,” the guy said, leaning on the handlebars. “Her name’s Patsy. She needs a new paintjob, but she works well.”  

“I _know_ she’s a Bonnie. She’s beautiful. How did you get her?”

“Youtube money. I should invite you as a guest more often, I’ll maybe be able to afford a car. I picked her up two days ago. You like her?”

“ _Do I like her?”_

 

Tater had a hard time understanding what was happening. Jack was _shrieking_ , okay? Jack doesn’t _shriek._ And who was this guy? This stranger seemed to be living his best life, and he was grinning with so much assurance.

Alexei was a bit jealous, okay? He wanted to be the cool kid around this block. Not some weird stranger with a pretty bike.

Also he wanted to try this bike.

 

“What about a ride around the city so you get to know her?” the guy said to Jack. “I promise to respect the speed limits.”

“What? No, bud, no way. We’re going to my apartment, right now.”

“Uh?” he seemed taken aback by Jack’s resolute tone. “You got something planned?”

“No. _We’re going to my apartment, right now._ ”

“Oh. Oh. Well.”

 

The guy expertly threw a helmet to Jack -brand new, but old-looking- and put on his own, and Jack slipped on the bike right behind him, clinging to his waist.

 

“Buckle up, darlin’.”

 

Jack barely had time to salute his teammates that the bike went away, with a _lot_ of noise.

None of them really knew what just happened.

 

“What the fuck.”

“I think we just met Jack’s boyfriend.” Marty said.

“His _boyfriend?_ He has a _girlfriend_ , doesn’t he?” Thirdy asked.

“Well okay there’s the whole girlfriend thing, but sure as hell, Jack wants to have sex with him,” Marty replied. “I’m straight and I want to have sex with him.”

“I don’t know who’s this guy,” Georgia said, “but I can smell he’s trouble.”

“Oh, please George,” Thirdy said. “It’s not because someone dresses like a bad boy that he’s a bad boy.”

“Didn’t he explicitly said he used Jack to make some money? Plus, what a lousy bike. He’s trouble, and an attention-seeker. The kind of people that should stay away from my players.”

 

* * *

 

 

“This guy _is_ trouble, I told you,” George said as soon as Marty, Tater and Thirdy arrived at the rink the following morning. "Look at Jack?"

 

The guy had dropped Jack to practice with his bike, and Jack was glowing and smiling.

 

"Well, he's happy," Marty shrugged.

"He's got a nice girlfriend baking him a hundred of pies and he cheats on her with some  _punk_."

"Truly there's maybe no cheating. We don't know," Tater insisted. 

"Don't try to reason her;" Marty began. "George may look cool and badass, but she's terrified of motorbikes."

"They're loud and obnoxious and bikers are so arrogant," Georgia frowned "And _i_ _t's so easy to fall what if he gets into an accident-"_

 

 

 

“So… How was your… party yesterday?” Thirdy asked in the locker room.

“Oh! Great. Bitty and I dance together, mostly rock and twist, and it’s sometimes hard to find a place and time to do so. This bar was cool, we’ll probably go back.”

“So you… Exercised alright.” Tater stated (and Thirdy sighed.)

“Uh… Yeah, sure?” Jack replied, obvious of the innuendo.

 

Marty hushed everyone to please shut up and finish to dress, because they were late to practice.

 

At the end of stretching, once everyone was going back to the locker room, Jack stayed behind, eyeing Tater and the captains to do so also. They did, not without perplexity. Jack seemed _anxious_.

 

“Hi… I wanted to know if you wanted, maybe, to come over for dinner at my apartment tonight? I want to introduce you to someone.”

 

Marty looked at Thirdy. Thirdy looked at Tater. Tater looked over the moon.

 

“Yeah! Sure, Zimmboni!”

 

Jack beamed at that, and excused himself to go invite George too.

 

“What?” Tater asked, when Thirdy and Marty both raised eyebrows at him. “Either he show us to Mystery Cool Dude or to Mystery Baker Girlfriend. If girlfriend, pie, if cool dude, I’ll ask a ride on his bike. No loosing.”

 

* * *

 

 

Marty picked everyone with his car to get to Jack’s for seven PM. Him, George and Thirdy were praying that it was Mystery Baker Girlfriend that was waiting for them there. Tater was praying that both Mystery Baker Girlfriend and Mystery Cool Dude would be there.

 

Jack (in a dress shirt and smart slacks) opened to them, took their coats, and in the living-room, neither of them was there. Instead, a cute blond boy with a nice spotted shirt, a pretty bowtie and his hair parted on the side was setting up the end table in front of the couch with glasses and a finger food tray.

 

“Oh, hi there! I didn’t expect y’all to arrive this early!”

 

He came by them, next to Jack, who put his arm around his shoulder and told everyone with a shy smile:

 

“So, I’d like to _formally_ introduce you my boyfriend, Eric Bittle. Bittle, meet Alexei, Sebastien, Randall, and Georgia.”

“It’s so nice to finally get to talk to you all! Jack has always so many things to tell about you!”

“Oh! I recognise you! Aren’t you the boy we ran into on a bridge while jogging?” Georgia asked. “You were at graduation too, right?”

“Yes, why, of course… Your favourite captain only graduate once, I couldn’t miss it.”

 

They all greeted Eric with warmth, and talked with enthusiasm when they all sat around the couch (so he was the baker! And still a student! And so nice and so polite!) but the second Eric and Jack both took off to the kitchen to get some drinks, the guests all huddled together.

 

“He’s so, so, _so_ nice,” George began.

“A saint,” Marty agreed.

“A _baker,_ ” Tater nodded.

“And Jack is one steamy pile of shit if he really does what we think he does,” George continued. “I feel awful. There is no polite way to say ‘hey dude I think Jack is cheating on you with a hot biker’. Seriously Jack, chose the nice boy over the bad boy, trust me on this one.”

“Yes but teammate or not, we need to save this guy and tell him,” Thirdy stated.

“Maybe he know? Like, they in a open relationship,” Tater proposed.

“What the fuck?” Marty frowned. “They’re the same guy.”

 

There was a beat.

 

“What?”

“They are… The same guy? They’ve got the same goddamn face, are you all blind?”

“Sweet, sweet baby baker Eric and bad boy biker punk Bitty are not the same guy,” Tater said.

“I can assure you, Tater, that Eric Bittle and Bitty are the same person.”

 

Sweet sweet baby baker Bitty and Jack came back then to the living room, alcohol and soft drinks bottles in their arms. And Marty had a point to prove. 

He let them all talk about college life, and pie fillings, and Thirdy’s new poems, and their upcoming game against the Sabres tomorrow, and when the conversation died down a little, he asked:

 

“So, Eric… You’ve got one hell of a bike.”

“Oh, Patsy? Yeah, you got to see her yesterday… She’s a beauty, isn’t she? Jack _really liked her…_ ” he replied, elbowing his blushing boyfriend.

 

Marty tried not to look to smug when he saw his teammate’s and Georgia surprised faces. Ding-dong, losers.

Past the surprise, Tater was over the moon.

Baker and biker were the same person? Jack’s boyfriend?

_Perfect._

 

“So, you’re a biker also?” Bitty asked.

“Oh, no. I myself like cars better…” Marty replied.

“I feel you so much,” he said, scratching his calf. “’Took bike driving lessons to avoid shooting ones, but honestly I’m more into cars. See how Jack reacted when he saw my Bonnie yesterday? That’s nothing near what I can be, I think. Honestly if someone one day comes to pick me up in a vintage convertible, I’m signing the marriage certificate right away, no question asked.”

“Oh yes. I am desperately looking for an old Corvette just like my family used to own…”

“Bitty-biker, I have a question,” Tater cut him. “When you take me for a ride?”

 

 


End file.
